


Into This Quiet Night

by LittleMissOddball



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:12:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4413434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissOddball/pseuds/LittleMissOddball
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America and England reminisce of the day America leaves England.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into This Quiet Night

**Author's Note:**

> My first Hetalia Fanfic. Please bear with me. Feel free to comment and show me some love with Kudos.  
> The song used is Shizuka na Yoru Ni by Arashi's Ohno Satoshi. So you should play it for full effect.
> 
> Lyric translation to Yarukizero Livejournal

_The melody of rain_ _The music of tears dropping_ _The hazy sky is peeking through_

_Stop time_ _Deep in a sleeping forest where you hid your memories_ _Search for the light._

_When many colors overlap,  blurring like a dream (Baby)_

_If possible, abandon yourself to the lingering wind, along with this voice that can't reach you._

_1777: War of Independence_

 

"I'm no longer your little brother, nor am I your colony."

A platoon of soldiers at his opponent's beck and call, guns at the ready, and a single man clad in red Victorian Clothing , and glaring at the figure across him who was pointing his gun at point blank was a sight to behold under the heavy torrent of the summer rain,

 

"England, give me my freedom!"

 

No reply.

 

"England!"

"Shoot you goddamn, ungrateful twat! Shoot!" England shouted, his voice quivering from the tears he so tried to keep back. "Finish this!"

 The blond holding the musket quivered at the words thrown at him. Oh how much he wanted so much to pull the trigger. And there in front of him stood the man that could very much give him the freedom he wanted. All he had to do was pull the trigger.

 He held it up, his guards following suit, pointing to the now unarmed man.

 "Shoot! America!"

 The name resounded throughout the battlefield and in the ears of the blond in blue. For a second, he forgot what he had been there for. All he remembered now was the gentle smile of the young bachelor, his kind words and actions. Flashes of laughs and giggles and days under the sun seemed to come one after the other in fast paces. And from out of nowhere, the horrid smell of "cooking" filled the air. Peaceful nights ensued.

 For a second he forgot this wasn't just the man that bore the name of the British Empire. He wasn't the man that trampled on millions just to expand his fame and glory. And he certainly wasn't the man that held the destiny of the one called, America and was now standing unarmed, drenched in the rain with eyes glaring at the other and alone on the battlefield.

 He was just the man that took him in and cared for him and loved him with all that he had.

He was England. Just England.

 His head bowed along with his rifle, sending a ripple to the guards at the back. "Enough of this. Just give me my freedom. Please."

 

_The light that touched the palm of your extended hand passes through_

_Water the flowers that forgot to wake up_

_It's as if that is a landscape I'd seen some time.  I can go back_

_I continued to draw alone   Into this quiet night_

_July 1, 20XX: Three days until 4th of July_

England sits at the far end of the countries' meeting table. sipping on his afternoon tea and feeling the soft gush of wind coming from the small gap through the window. "America! Enough with these stupid 'hero' business! Take this meeting seriously!"

 "Why do you always go against my suggestions, huh England? I don't hear YOU coming up with any ideas." America's palms hit the table hard, the sound bouncing off the walls. "All you do is sit there and sip your tasteless tea."

 England cringes at the sound of 'tasteless tea' and stands, striding to the direction of the American. "How dare you insult my teatime, you ungrateful twat!"

 "What'd you call me?!"

"UNGRATEFUL. TWAT." England takes his index finger and flicks the blonde’s forehead, which gives him a yelp. America strokes the flicked area, tears in his eyes.

 Sparks of lightning ignites between the two as they begin another everyday route that leads the world meetings to nowhere. From the other side of the table, France and the other countries snicker at each other from the everyday sight.

 "Aren't you gonna do anything today, France?" Spain scoots over to the bearded long haired blond friend and whispers to him. "It's rare for you and Germany not to butt in today."

 France just sighs and looks to Spain with knowing eyes. "Let's leave them be, mon ami. Not today." He then looks back to the two still arguing, even from being held back by the other concerned countries. _And probably not for the rest of the week._

 

The day ended with yet nothing being done and everyone was getting ready to be done when someone speaks the dreaded words.

 "Ve~ America's birthday is in three days, right?"

 All hands stop fumbling with their briefcases or stop in their tracks and looks to the ground, others to the direction of both America and England. Germany heads to Italy's side and takes him by the shoulders.

 

"Let's go, Italy." he says, shoving the unknowing Italian hurriedly out the door. The intervention may have gotten all the other countries' focus back and were now scurrying out the meeting room. France steps to England's side and taps him before leaving the door.

 The room is silent with only America and England alone, the tension rising between both males, until England decides to be the reasonable gentleman.

 

"What are you doing this year?"

"The usual, I guess. Fireworks, and drinks and all that." he replies, his eyes glued to his meeting materials.

"I see."

America's hands stop fumbling and he tilts his head upwards just a little bit. "Hey England---" he begins but is cut off by England's voice echoing from the other side of the room.

 

"America."

 

 America looks to the direction of the other, now looking out the window. "I never told you." England then faces him and America is struck by the expression England had on his face.

 It was the same face he used to give him when he was little and would be expectantly waiting his beloved England's return. Except now, it was clouded with that of sadness and traces of that reminiscent summer rain.

 "The view from this window looks exactly like the place where I found you."

 America felt something inside him snap. He makes an angry sound and scrambles to get his stuff and himself out of the meeting room, leaving England behind, not wanting to see the face he had on right now.

 Once out of earshot and alone in the hallway, America drops to his knees holding his body, trying to stifle the sounds that were beginning to be obvious.

 "A hero shouldn't be like this." he muttered to himself as he remained on the ground, a sobbing mess.

 

_Close your eyes   Where did the flowing tears go?  On this long sleepless night, I search for the stars_

 

_July 4, 20XX_

 

The sound of boiling hot water and the smell of burning scones were all you could notice in England's otherwise silent House. No one seemed to be at home, but if you were to strain your ears enough, you would hear the grumbling sounds of 'twat' or 'asshat' in between the sniffing sounds and the flurry of blankets being thrown to the ground.

 It was the 4th of July. America's birthday. It was the day he got his freedom. The day he left England. And like every year, there would be a huge party gathering at America's home and everyone would be invited. Even England.

 But like every year, England would stay at home.

 Rainy nights in London are an everyday sight. It gave Londoners a reason to sip hot tea and chat with steaming hot scones adorning every plate

 But tonight's rain was a little too nostalgic. As if the date was enough to give him nightmares, the rain would only make it worse. It was like the clouds were pouring the tears that his eyes would refuse to let fall. Every year, he would try to watch the celebration from his television box, to scare away the pain and to finally be rid of that sadness, only to end up even more scared of the thunders and the loneliness he would start to feel. He would curl himself up in a blanket, and wouldn't leave his room until the week ended.

 

  _My fingertips trace the colors lightly, if only by the fading shapes (Baby)_

_The grief that melted away from my trembling heart flowed endlessly._

England sat in his dark bedroom alone with only the moon's shine to shed light on the desolate room. The sound of thunder clapping makes him jump from fright and he quickly moves his ears to block out the sounds. How he wished the night would end soon.

 The thunders’ sounds die out yet the rain remains. England looks out to his window to see the million stars light up the sky. His eyes glow and forget the sadness he feels and goes back to the times when he and America would be out late at night, gazing up at the stars in green fields and talking the night away. A tear trickles down his cheek and England too finds himself in uncontrollable sobbing.

 

_The fleeting dreams that I was chasing disappeared, shaking my heart. I was told goodbye and didn't say anything back_

_Someone's voice calling out to me still echoes now_

_Tired of standing on my own and staring into the distance._

The stars mesmerized him. He could no longer hear the sound of the thunder and he sat there just gazing upwards tracing every single constellation he could. Each time recalling a memory he and America had.

 He continued to look to the heavens until the rain stopped. From his soliloquy he comes to a decision: He had to let go of the past.

 America was no longer who he once was. He was now the United States of America. He had to face the facts. He was now stronger than anyone, even stronger than England. He's no longer that boy that called out to him so lovingly, and clung to him like he was his mother.

 "England!"

 Ah, his voice had always been the most beautiful. Hearing it now, brings a new set of tears in his eyes. This was right.

"England!" A sudden burst through his door revealed the American blonde panting and soaked from the rain. But England kept his eyes glued to the outside window.

 "You've grown so much, America." The Englishman takes his eyes away from the view and points it to the direction of the figure at his door with tears in his eyes. "I am so proud of you. I'm sorry."

 

_The moon reflects you  White and shining_

_The rain, without ever stopping, engulfs me._

America had planned to hold a party just like every year, but the sudden downpour put all his plans on hold. In the end, he resorted to holding his own party, alone.

 

_Besides, it's not as if England's coming._

Thinking of England now, he must have been stupid.

This is his fault. He had to say that during the meeting.

 To put his mind off things he bounces to the kitchen to make himself a homemade burger when the sudden thunderclap makes him jump and drop his burger to the floor. He looks out the window and sees the heavy rain had become a storm.

Once, in his old days, he had always been scared of the storm and would always seek England's company. Sure England would fall asleep first, but it was just enough to make him feel like he was loved and not alone.

 

He truly loved England and leaving him was probably the biggest decision he had to make. It hurt him, but he had to.

 Another thunderclap and he finds himself scouring for his coat and car keys and headed for the Englishman's house.

 Once he got there, he noticed the stillness of the British home. He tried calling for him but no one replies. America starts to worry and goes through every corner of the room until he notices upstairs where a faint light was showing through a small gap. He hurriedly climbed the stairs, calling out England's name and barges in on the room where England sat alone staring out the window, clad in his blanket, the moon's light shining on him.

 "England."

"I'm so proud of you. America, I'm sorry."

 America strides to the other's bed and engulfs him in a warm embrace. England leans on his chest, crying while America strokes his back.

 This continued throughout the night, until the morning when they woke up together in nothing but a blanket to cover them both.

 Smiles of glee greeted each other and eyes full of love stared at one another. "Happy birthday, America."

 America strokes his head and kisses his forehead, and pulls him closer. "I love you too, England."

 

_The light that touched the palm of your extended hand passes through_

_Water the flowers that forgot to wake up_

_It's as if that is a landscape I'd seen some time.  I can go back_

_I continued to draw alone   Into this quiet night_

 

_The fleeting dreams that I was chasing disappeared, shaking my heart. I was told goodbye and didn't say anything back_

_Someone's voice calling out to me still echoes now_

_Tired of standing on my own and staring into the distance._

 

 


End file.
